


No Accounting for Happiness

by cakeisnotpie



Series: Sexuality Series [6]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alien Gender/Sexuality, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers - Freeform, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Pansexual Character, Past Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony Stark is pansexual, Trans Female Character, sexuality series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 19:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12824448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: A part of my continuing sexuality series:Tony's long known that he's attracted to all genders; the question has always been how to have a relationship when he lives a life filled with constant danger and his own messed up psyche. Maybe what he needs is to create his own definition of what it means to be happy.





	No Accounting for Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this one for a long time. I'd start and stop and start again. My goal was to explore pansexuality and Tony was always going to be the character whose viewpoint I used. Clint, however, wormed his way into the story as only he can. As always, this is not meant to be definitive or prescriptive; I'm just playing with the possibilities, one small glimpse at a broad spectrum of sexuality. 
> 
> In this world, Civil War turned out differently ... Bucky didn't kill Tony's parents and Rhodey talked some sense into Tony before things went too far. 
> 
> I love any and all comments!

_There's just no accounting for happiness,_

_or the way it turns up like a prodigal_

_who comes back to the dust at your feet_

_having squandered a fortune far away._

_Jane Kenyon, “Happines_ s”

 

 

“So,” Howard drawled, a glass half full of scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other. “Your mother wants me to give you the speech about not fucking your assistant again.” He swirled the caramel colored liquor and took a sip. “But I think you’re old enough to learn the most important lesson about sex; how to calculate the perfect sized gift to get them to go away.”

 

Tony Stark, sixteen and skinny, more worried about the latest schematics he’d drawn up than his father’s lecture, rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. If his mother wanted him to leave the help alone, she should stop hiring glorified babysitters when he was enrolled  MIT and living on his own. And they certainly shouldn’t be twenty-four-year-old MBA grads with long legs and a curvy figure. Of course, his parents were both blind when it came to that muscular groundskeeper who’d shown Tony just how well a man could suck cock. Tony had even managed to talk his mother into giving the guy a bonus because the lilies he planted were doing so well.

 

“Dad.” Tony cut Howard off in mid-sentence. “Jarvis has been getting bracelets for me at the same store you use. White gold, 24 carat diamond tennis bracelets. Works like a charm.” He stood up, stretched his aching back, and looked at the man who’d taught him everything he knew about relationships. All of which boiled down to ‘sex is great, sex is fun, sex is just sex.’ “I’ve almost got the secondary servo system worked out for Dum-E. Just a few more hours and I’ll have it.”

 

“Okay, well, fine then.” Howard nodded, dismissing his son. “Just leave the girls alone for a bit. At least the ones on our payroll.”

 

Heading back to his workshop, Tony grinned. The garden club was over yesterday to see his mother’s roses. That meant Martin would be free after his shift and could help Tony work out a few kinks.

* * *

 

“Hey, Tony!”

“Over here, Tony!”

“Tony!”

 

The screams didn’t abate when Tony waved and smiled; the people stretched their arms out even further, begging for a touch or an autograph in a cacophony of noise and a blinding series of bright white flashes. So used to the red carpet, Tony hardly even noticed any more. He mugged for the cameras, throwing up a peace sign as his eyes landed on a tall, statuesque woman, her skin dark ebony that glowed in the lights. Defined biceps, closely shaved head, gorgeous brown eyes … it was lust at first sight.  She glided up the hotel steps, simple black dress hugging every line of her athletic body.

 

Tony was good at maneuvering himself through crowds; he sidled up beside her and casually nodded before he went in. Gave her time to watch his ass perfectly cupped by his bespoke trousers and the cut of his tuxedo coat.  Ordering his first drink … at least the first one at the gala … he circled the room, glad handing and networking so he could tell Obediah he put on a good show. Maybe get the man off his back for a week or two so he could finish the new aerosol delivery system and work on the upgrade to JARVIS. But he kept an eye on the woman, saw how she moved and scanned the room; he’d had enough bodyguards in his lifetime to recognize efficiency of the movements. The older gentleman that she never stepped away from was a lucky s.o.b. She turned and Tony caught her eye; he raised his glass and nodded, his patented sexy smile aimed her way.

 

“For God’s sake, Tony, have some sense of decency,” Obi said, waving his cigar. “That’s a man. Anyone can tell.”

 

“I usually go with the clothes as a clue to what pronoun to use,” Tony replied, handing Obi his glass. “Hold this for me.”

 

He wove through the crowd until he got close enough to slip his card into her hand. “Call me when you get off, darling,” he drawled. “We’ll have a late night sparring session.”

 

Raising an eyebrow, she tucked the piece of paper into her cleavage. “Sure you’re up for it, Stark? I can be a handful.”

 

“Oh, I like handfuls and a nice tight fit,” Tony said with a wink. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

 

_Page Six_ carried the photo the next morning, Tony with his head tilted up, a wicked gleam in his eye as he held the door of his car open for her to climb in.

* * *

 

The first time he kissed Pepper, he was on a roof, half a city burning below them.  She wasn’t like the others; his attraction had grown slowly, matched with a ball of warmth in place of the heart he didn’t have. For once, he thought about a future, Pepper by his side as he perfected the suit and settled into being Iron Man.  A life different from his parents, one with two people who loved each other enough to overcome how fucked up he was.

 

At first it worked; Pepper ran the company and Tony spent time in his lab. Then New York happened and Clint and Natasha and Bruce and Steve moved into the tower. Tony loved having them around; he and Bruce were peanut butter and jelly in the lab, Tony’s attraction to Bruce’s brain made sex a moot topic between them.  Steve took off on his bike to see the U.S. or some such shit, and Natasha and Pepper lunched and shopped together.  Clint, it turned out, was funny as hell and the best partner-in-crime Tony had ever had; if he hadn’t been with Pepper, he’d have tapped that very fine ass. But he was and he was damn well capable of keeping his pants zipped unlike his father, thank you very much.

 

Then Pepper got kidnapped, twice, and HYDRA was inside SHIELD and … things got twisted between them.  He couldn’t make her understand that his death wish, as she called it, was an honest desire to help others. She couldn’t accept that he was satisfied with their sex life, sure his need to run into battle was linked to desires she couldn’t satisfy. They argued. They went to separate coasts. They tried again.

 

Pepper left for good just before the Winter Soldier fiasco and Tony went off the deep end, giving full reign to his anger and channeling the pain of the break up by being a bastard to Steve. That it ended badly was a foregone conclusion; only an intervention by Rhodey reading him the riot act stopped him from going too far. Of course, Steve forgave him and Barnes moved into the tower.  Bruce stayed on the sidelines, Natasha took Pepper’s side, and  Clint was too busy drinking himself into oblivion after finding that Coulson was not only alive but had been all along.   

 

On his own to cope, Tony fucked a swath from coast-to-coast and across Europe, ending up in the South Seas, hungover and finally ready to go home.

* * *

“Your fingers are very facile,” T’brrr-et said. Well, not really, since the alien cephalopod didn’t have vocal chords.  They made sound through vibrations of a lattice like structure made of gelatinous membrane.  A cross between a violin and an electric guitar, Tony exercised his will power by not playing a little Led Zeppelin to see what they would do.  The universal translator’s digitized words didn’t do justice to the beauty of the alien’s voice.  “They manipulate excellently.”

 

Tony laughed, wiggling his digits towards T’brr-et.  “It’s the opposable thumbs that’ll blow your mind,” he said. “Pincer movements.”

 

One tentacle reached out; Tony held out his hand and let T’brr-et touch each fingertip gently.  “Each works independently? Such delicate yet useful evolution. You can touch and hold the most sensitive things.”

 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me.” The last two days had been filled with conversation about biological differences as Tony worked with the scientist;  he’d learned as much about tentacles as he had organic machinery and that was a lot. “Got a little kink, do you?”

 

T’brr-et closed its inner eyelids as the words were translated. “I do not understand. What is flirt? And kink?”

 

“To flirt, to show sexual attraction.  Does your species have sex for amusement? Pleasure?” Tony reached for a smaller screwdriver.  “A kink is a sexual proclivity, one considered unusual.”

 

“You speak of procreation?” The alien hummed, vibrating the tips of its tentacles. “I have studied your physiology and understand you are always in heat; we, too, can engage in coitus at any point in our cycle.”

 

“Well, I for one find it very convenient.” Tony gave T’brr-et one of his patented come hither looks. “Never know when I going to meet some fascinating scientist who can keep up with me in the lab.”

 

“Is that your … unusual proclivity?” Tentacles waved as T’brr-et bent down towards Tony.  “Attraction to intelligence?”

 

“Nah, that’s pretty normal. Kinks are more like being tied up, wearing a furry costume, getting off on shoes.” He paused then decided to go for it. “Tentacles …”

 

“Furry? Costume?” T’brr-et cocked its cranial area. “You mean you would wish to engage in coitus with a tentacled creature? Is that not … ah, I see. Outside the norm. Non-conformity.  In our culture, those who do not fall within the prescribed range of normal are trained for the sciences and the arts.”

 

“Someone like you?” Tony leaned against a counter, any pretense of work dropped. “So, what’s your kink? Sexy aliens with facial hair, perhaps?”

 

Turned out, T’brr-et was more than willing to explore … for science, of course … the compatibility of the two races. Tony learned just  how erotic suckers could feel on his inner thigh and that Eagles’ songs gave a cephalopod the best orgasm.  When the Quitas-Neware left,  they thanked the Avengers and Tony specifically in being such cordial hosts.

 

Clint laughed out loud.

* * *

 

Okay, sleeping with both Gamora and Nebula probably wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, but it paled in comparison to getting rip roaring drunk on Asgardian mead at the celebration to end all celebrations, i.e. we just beat Thanos and the galaxy is safe once more thanks to us, and waking up in his giant sized bed with a pounding headache, no memory of what happened after singing “You Shook Me All Night Long” with Clint on backup vocals, only to find a very naked Captain America sleeping next to him. No, scratch that. Not Captain America. Steven Grant Rogers, the man who gave up the shield after dying in the battle, but not really dying because, hey, super soldier and a talking tree who made pollen rain down on them all. The title now belonged to Sam Wilson, aka the guy who hit on Maria Hill and lived to tell the tale.

 

“Well, hell,” Tony rolled over, twice, and was still in bed. “Trip the light fantastic with a perfect specimen and can’t remember it. That’s the way my life’s going lately.”

 

“Trip the ... “ Steve cracked his eyelids open. “Jeez, Tony,  go back to sleep, would ya? It’s still early.”

 

He thought of all the reasons he should get up and be an adult about the situation. Pretend it didn’t happen, blame the alcohol, bullshit his way out of it … he’d tried ‘em all before on morning afters when doubts and regrets clouded his bed mate’s eyes.  Thing was, he knew Steve, or he thought he did. Too damn honest for his own good, Steve would see right through any smart ass angle Tony tried to take.

 

“Fuck it.” He rolled back into the warm spot in the middle, hooking an ankle over Steve’s and tucked his nose into that perfect nook where Steve’s shoulder curved up into his neck.  “Just promise me Snow Boy isn’t going to kill me for poaching on his territory.”

 

“I’m not … No … We’re not …” Steve’s body tensed, his eyes flying open. “Buck’s …”

 

“Oh for God’s sake, Rogers. I’m right here and can feel your morning wood at the mention of his name. No way you don’t have the hots for him.” Tony tipped his head back and grinned. “You’re so deep down that rabbit hole, you’re living in Wonderland. Hell, from the longing glances and suicidal stupidity, I assume you two had been bumping uglies for decades.”

 

“When we were young, I thought … but then Buck started chasing skirts and enlisted.” Steve’s voice grew quiet.  “I met Peggy and thought she was the one. And now ...”

 

“Seriously?” Tony raised up on one elbow. “Man Bun practically glows when he looks at you. Much I probably enjoyed last night … which I still can’t remember, damn it … you two are the ultimate star-crossed lovers. You want, I’ll pop for a grand gesture, fly you to someplace romantic … no, probably rent out your favorite place in Brooklyn. Or, hey, Coney Island? I’m sure if I called the Governor …”

 

“Tony.” The edges of Steve’s mouth turned up. “We’re naked in bed and you’re trying to set me up with my best friend?”

 

Tony shrugged. “Dude, sex is sex; you want Barnes for your happily ever after. That’s a completely different thing. And speaking of, why are you in my bed? Me, yeah, I’m always up for tapping that ass, but I figured the whole me going mental over Man Bun thing put an end to that possibility.”

 

With a chuckle, Steve rolled Tony over, pressing Tony’s body into the mattress with his weight, leaving no doubt about his interest in more than talking. “Sex is sex, Tony. You think I have to be in love to fuck someone?”

 

“Oh, ho, the Captain talks dirty!” Tony rolled his hips, enjoying the jolt it sent through his system. “You know, if I’m going to something stupid, might as well remember it, eh?”

* * *

 

“You, Anthony Stark, will do exactly as I ask, won’t you my dear?”

 

She was blonde and curvy, rosy aureoles peeking over the top of her green corset. Red lips, beautiful green eyes, and a voice that drizzled across Tony’s skin like warm honey. Every move of her legs revealed more creamy thighs as she circled Tony, dragging one black polished nail across the breastplate of his suit.

 

“What do you want?” He replied, never taking his eyes off her cleavage. “Tell me.”

 

A musical tumble of laughter and she was right in front of him, close enough for Tony to smell her perfume, a mixture of lavender, coriander, and vanilla. He pulled his thoughts away from the intoxicating view and caught Clint’s tiniest nod.

 

“I want this world to bow at my feet, but first, I want you to give me full access to your computer system and your technology,” she said.

 

“Shall I build you a suit?” Tony asked, buying time. “In shades of green and silver?”

 

“Oh, yes,” she practically purred. “I shall be Amora, the dark and powerful! What a lovely …”

 

He triggered the repulsor, blast hitting her square in the chest; she slammed into the window, long lines cracking across the glass.  Clint locked anti-magic cuffs around her wrists as she gasped for air, shock flushing her cheeks.

 

“How did you … You’re both men! You should be under my control!”

 

“Not all of men are attracted to women,” Clint replied.

 

“You’re gay? Of course.” She looked at Tony. “But you, Stark, I know your reputation; you sleep with anything that moves.”

 

“Sorry, Elphaba, you’re hot, but I learned the hard way how to control my dick. Trust me on this, nothing worst than being caught dry humping a pool float by your mother. After that, I pretty much put Little Tony on notice as to who was in charge.” Tony opened his faceplate. “Plus, it helps that the suit filters out pheromones.”

 

“Well, shit.” She dropped her head back against the glass. “And here I thought Earth was going to be easy.”

* * *

 

“You still love her.” Clint leaned an elbow against the bar and sipped his whiskey.  On the dance floor, Pepper laughed, her eyes fixed on her date, a famous rock star who, turned out, was a pretty decent guy. “But are you still in love with her?”

 

Tony swirled his gin and tonic as he really looked at her. She was as beautiful as he’d ever seen her, creamy skin and rosy cheeks, happiness writ large on her classic face. The expected pang of loss was more a gentle nudge of memory; she would always be one of his closest friends, but she’d found what she was looking for in the singer’s arms.

 

“I could ask the same of you,” Tony countered. “You still pining over Agent Agent or did his timely death and resurrection change that?”

 

“He’s … different.” Clint’s eyes found Phil where he sat with Rosalind Price, the head of the new government office of mutant oversight. “Not sure it would have ever worked, even before.”

 

“The ideal was more attractive than the reality,” Tony agreed. “Same with me and Pep; I’m too much of a mess to have a real relationship.”

 

“Me too, brother. Me too.” Clint clicked his glass with Tony’s. “Everyone’s getting tied down -- Steve and Bucky, Bruce and Betty -- let’s drink to being free agents, shall we?”

 

One drink led to another and then they were in the penthouse, sprawled on Tony’s sofa, bow ties and jackets long gone, shirt sleeves rolled up and socked feet up on the coffee table.

 

“Know what would be good?” Clint took a handful of dried cranberries, popped them in his mouth, and chewed as he kept talking. “Instead of ‘no homo, bro’ why can’t we have ‘yes, homo, bromance?’ Like, hang out, have fun, get off without all the heavy emotional shit. You know, like you and Rhodey have.”

 

“Nah, I’ve never slept with Rhodey. He’s straight, plus we’d kill each other.”  Tony chuckled. “He wants to murder me on a regular basis as it is.”

 

“Yeah, here’s the thing.” Clint tossed the packet of fruit when Tony held up his hand. “Gotta take you as you are, not as I want you to be. That’s rule number one of homo bromo. No trying to change the person; fuck that shit.”

 

“Rule number two: none of that ‘if you loved me, you’d just know’ shit. I barely know what day it is when I’m working on a project much less remember the anniversary of the day I first gave you a pet name. For God’s sake, if you want to be on top just say so; don’t wave it in my face during an argument.”

 

“Damn straight.” Clint raised his glass. “And don’t keep secrets;  I rather know about it than be blindsided.”

 

“Like Phil coming back from the dead?” Tony grimaced. “As much as I owe

Agent Agent, that was a bullshit move.”

 

“Pretty sure I mixed up gratitude for something else. He brought me in and I knew he was a SHIELD man through and through.” Clint sighed. “Might have been just a little bit of a daddy thing going on there.”

 

“Little bit?” Tony snorted. “You got an anti-authority streak a mile wide, Katniss; of course you’re looking for someone to give you permission and validation.”

 

“Takes one to know one, Metal Head. You think you just tumbled into bed with Steve Rogers, the nicest leader in history?  Hate to break the news, but you’ve got a Daddy fetish a mile wide.”

 

Tony took a moment to swallow some more smooth liquid and feel the burn in the back of his throat. “Well, yeah. I thought that was pretty obvious. Half the time I’m proving Howard right and the other I’m trying to prove I’m worthy of the Stark name. Been to enough therapists to know that. Doesn’t mean I’m a pushover in bed, though. I spend plenty of time on top.”

 

“Oh, I bet you are the sassiest of all bottoms,” Clint said with a laugh.

 

A spike of lust hit him, a stirring of his cock and a crack in the door of a want he’d shut away.  Peeling himself off the couch, he crossed to where Clint was sitting, depositing his drink on the end table. He put his hands on the back and leaned forward. “Seems to me, you’re angling to find out.”

 

“Thank God. I’ve been giving you enough hints.” Clint caught the collar of Tony’s t-shirt and tugged him down. “Thought I might have to strip and paint myself purple to get your attention.”

 

“Red.” Tony dipped and dragged his lips across Clint’s. “I prefer red.”

 

“Purple. Red’s your color.”

* * *

 

“I take it you decided to blow off the meeting.”  Pepper entered the workshop. “This merger was six months in the works and the CEO of the company asked specifically for you, but, of course, you know better than everyone else and decided it wasn’t worth even a call..”

 

Tony working on the diode configuration. “I told you it was a crappy product; I’ve already made a better one and am upgrading the design as we speak..”

 

“They own the patent.” Pepper sighed. “There’s still the legalities to observe. That’s why you pay me the big bucks, remember? All I ask is you show up every now and then.”

 

“You know I hate to play the trained monkey,” Tony replied. “I don’t come on demand.”

 

Still playing Candy Crush Soda, Clint spoke from where he was sprawled on the couch. “Actually, you do.”

 

Snatching up a stress ball from the mess on the table, Tony threw it at Clint who caught it without looking.  “Smart ass.”

 

“You like my ass.” Clint rolled up, pocketing his phone. “I’m going to order take out. Thai or Vietnamese?”

 

“Order me some shrimp mee goreng from LoveMama and a mango salad for Pepper,” he answered.

 

“Mamak curry chicken it is,” Clint agreed.

 

After he’d left, Pepper crossed her arms and leaned on a stool. “So …”

 

“Ummmm?” Tony pretended he didn’t know why she was there; she’d known he wasn’t going to the meeting and could have just called. Mostly, he loved making her spill whatever she came here to say.

 

“I haven’t gotten a single phone call from the press or the board in nine months, Tony. No sex videos, no photos, not even a blind item on _Page Six_.” She tapped her nails on the metal rim. “Do I need to give him the shovel speech? Or are you pretending it’s just friends with benefits still?”

 

“As much as I appreciate the offer,” Tony said, wiping his hands on a greasy rag, “I’m deeply wounded you think I’d even use that juvenile phrase.  Clint and I are homobromos, thank you. That’s the official term.”

 

Her eyebrows almost hit her hairline. “Homobromo?”

 

“An admitted homosexual romance between bros.” Tony grinned. “I’ve already added it to the urban dictionary.”

 

“Tell me you didn’t list yourself as an example,” Pepper begged.

 

Tony shrugged.

 

“Oh, God.”

* * *

 

A small droplet of sweat inched along the  taut muscle, sliding out from under the sopping wet spiky hairs at the back of his neck. It caught in the vee of his collarbone, waiting for another to join then roll over and down his chest.  The drop circled Clint’s had nipple, catching on a scar just below the curve of his pec, a raised slash of puckered skin, one Tony had never noticed before. All the history etched in bullet holes and knife cuts, a man who had taken a different road to get to the same location.

 

Sprawled on his back, sweat cooling, heart rate slowing, Tony tracked the drop into the thatch of curly pubic hair, Clint’s heavy cock jerking as the Asgardian’s thrusts grew faster and deeper.  Back arched, eyes closed, Clint looked like a model for Shary Boyle, ecstasy carved in human flesh. If Tony hadn’t already come twice, he’d be so turned on; watching Freyr drive Clint to the apex was more erotic than Tony had imagined. 

 

The need to taste surged and Tony didn’t fight up. Lifting up, he locked his lips on the scar, sucking it into his mouth and rolling his tongue along its length. Ever so gently, he dragged his teeth along the edges.

 

“Oh, fuck.” Clint mumbled, hi’s cock jumping and  bumping against Tony’s chest.

 

Nipping the raised skin harder, Tony wrapped his fingers around Clint’s length, stroked then added a little twist, 

 

“Tony!”  Clint’s muscles tensed, his voice dropping into a strangled groan as he came, a warm splatter on Tony’s chest and hand. Slumping over, Clint landed on his hands, pushing Tony onto the fur bed cover beneath him. “Oh my God.”

 

Laughing out loud, Tony caught Clint’s lips and kissed him , swallowing down the sounds Clint made as Freyr finished inside of him.  Even as Clint collapsed on top of him, Tony kept kissing him, enjoying the added weight holding him down.

 

“Aye, now that was some fine fucking!” Freyr rolled off the bed, barely looking winded after nearly three hours of sex. “You do Midgard proud; here I thought humans had no stamina for Asgardian pleasures, but you have proved me wrong.”

 

“Be sure and tell all your friends.” Tony turned his head to look at Thor’s uncle or cousin or some relation. He couldn’t keep up with all the connections. “Midgardians can keep up.”

 

“That you can! Two such valiant bedmates will make great tales to be told.” He strode towards the bathing room. “Give me a moment then we shall order food; I find I am famished and in need of more mead.”

 

Clint groaned into the curve of Tony’s neck where he’d buried his face.

 

“Ah, yeah, about that. We have the games in the morning,” Tony said, “and we want to do our world proud so we better get some rest. Food, sex, and sleep. That’s the secret to our success.”

 

“Indeed? I have often wondered; Thor tells such tales of your exploits.” Freyr left the door open, talking as he ran water. “I had thought he was exaggerating, but after seeing your great green champion and spending time with you, I can believe them.”

 

Tony quit listening,  Freyr’s chatter becoming nothing more than background noise as his eyes closed. Even puffs of warm breath bathed his neck, Clint drifting off as they lay tangled together.  Floating between sleep and waking, Tony missed Freyr leaving; how long they stayed that way, he lost track until Clint spoke.

 

“Fine, you were right. This was a good idea.”

 

“God of Virility; had to test that.” Tony chuckled. “So, you changed your mind about visiting the Sabinites?”

 

“You still on that? It’s just a story. Wolf hybrid people? With barbed, knotting penises?” Clint poked Tony in the side. “That’s your fantasy not mine, so I’m gonna say no.”

 

“Fair enough.” Tony absently stroked along Clint’s spine. “Quill will know where this planet is; he wanted me to upgrade his ship anyway.”

 

“Ummmm,” Clint hummed.

 

“Yeah, I know Gamora was a little mad at me after the last time …”

 

“Cough. Rocket. Cough.”

 

“Rocket likes me!”

 

“He rewired your suit to explode.”

 

“That was a joke … I think.”

 

“Fine,  I’ll go with you. And maybe, just maybe, if these werewolfie types are real, I could be talked into watching.”

 

“Gonna turn you into a hedonist yet, Legolas.”

 

Clint snorted. “Too late, babe. Too late.”

* * *

 

“With your work on artificial intelligence, do you worry about the worse case scenario, creating an A.I. who goes rogue?” The interviewer smiled as she asked the question, as if she already knew Tony’s answer.  “Science fiction is filled with dire warnings about robots who take over the world.”

 

“Well, Heinlein did say everything was theoretically impossible until it was done,” Tony replied. He shifted in his seat, uncrossing his legs. “But, honestly, I’m more worried about us mere humans; look at the damage we’ve already done.  The Holocaust, the Trail of Tears, Hiroshima, genocide after genocide.  Right now the Rohingya are being killed and driven out of Myanmar. Terrorists are blowing up mosques in Turkey.  Gays are being rounded up in Chechnya. Robots are the last thing we need to fear.”

 

“So true.” She nodded. “Since your kidnapping and return, you’ve taken steps to raise awareness for issues and also actively worked to bring about change.  Your recent series of tweets to the Westboro Baptist Church, who protested Captain America’s relationship with the Winter Soldier outside Avengers Tower, for example. You said, and I quote, ‘Cap is too good to kick your ass. Me? I’ve got a metal boot with your name on it,’ then ‘Methinks you protest too much. Just admit it and I’ll spring for the coming out party.’ You sent a giant cake in the shape of a part of the male anatomy to the church. Any comment?”

 

“That wasn’t just any cake.  It was Steve’s favorite carrot cake recipe.  I thought the red, white, and blue ribbon was a nice touch.” He laughed. “Honestly, I can’t them seriously. I mean, they harass grieving families of fallen soldiers; there’s a special place in hell waiting for them. People love who they love; being attracted to someone isn’t a sin or evil or going to destroy the world. It’s hate and bigotry and racism that’s going to light the fuse.”

 

“And what about yourself? I don’t see your photo in the gossip mags nearly as much in the last couple years. Almost all the Avengers have settled down … Steve with Bucky, Pepper Potts is living with Chris Martin, Thor and Dr. Foster are expecting, Dr. Banner married Dr. Ross … have you found a special someone?”

 

“Is there someone who can put up with my daily dose of shitty behavior? That’s the real question.”  Tony didn’t glance over her shoulder, knew better than to let his eyes wonder to anyone else in the room. “I will say this. The best relationship I could imagine would be with someone who’s a friend, a lover, but not my keeper. Someone I could say, ‘hey, let’s buzz the Baxter Building and annoy Reed’ or ‘Gonna build a new sonic disrupter; don’t bother me for a month or so.’  That’s kind of hard to find.”

 

“You might be surprised by the number applicants for the position.” She leaned forward, the scoop of her silky shirt slipping down another inch. “You are one of the most eligible bachelors in the world.”

 

“The whole galaxy,” Tony corrected her.  “And that’s usually the dealbreaker; got to take me as I am, space travel and constant danger included.”

 

“That’s the headline for this piece. Space Travel and Constant Danger Included.” She sat back, professional and friendly despite his rejection. “I love it. This is going to be a great spread. Why don’t we take a break and get ready for some photos.  Randy wants some with the sunset through the windows.”

 

Tony stood up and stretched, his tee shirt riding up as he raised his arms. Over at the bar, Phil sat between Natasha and Clint; Phil was his official SHIELD handler for the day, the other two there in case any damage control was needed.

 

“This is going suspiciously well,” Phil groused, glaring at Tony. “It worries me when you play nice, Stark.”

 

“Still smarting from the tongue lashing Fury gave me about that incident with the Sovereign queen.” Tony winked at Clint.

 

“You enjoyed every minute of it,” Clint shot back.

 

“Especially that VR simulation of …” Tony began.

 

“Mr. Stark?” The photographer called. “Can we talk about possible locations for the shoot?”

 

“Got to go. My public needs me.” Tony turned to go then looked back. “Wanna order some Joe & Pat’s pies?  I’m craving a slice of vodka pizza. Get enough for everyone on the crew?”

 

“I could do with a buff chick calzone,” Phil said.

 

“With tomato salad,” Natasha added.

 

“And chocolate fudge cake.” Clint jumped down from his stool. “If I remember right, it’s Richards’ favorite. I’ll order extra and we can deliver it to him later.”

 

“No,” Phil interjected. “I know what your preferred method of delivery is. Last thing we need is you shooting chocolate covered arrows at the building.”

 

“Fine. No arrows.” Clint sighed. “Honestly, do it once and people never forget.”

 

As they  walked across the room, Clint headed for a quiet corner to phone in the order and Tony to the makeup chair, Tony leaned in and said, “Get it in a box. I’ve got the trebuchet set up; we’ll give it a trial run. Oh, and save a couple pieces for later.  We’ll put them to good use.”

 

“Will you wear those tight black jeans I see on the rack?” Clint asked. “‘Cause those are hot as hell.”

 

“The things I do for you, Barton.” Tony smiled. “The things I do.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know Gwyneth has split from Chris Martin now, but that shows how long I've been working on this!


End file.
